On a foggy, rainy day in October of 1946, Kay waited outside the state penitentiary for her husband. The five years were up. Today he was being released. It had been a long, hard wait for both of them. He had deserved the sentence, every bit of it. From his mob days a decade earlier to some insubordination during the war, Monty had earned his reward.
But Kay was hopeful. She had visited the prison to see Monty every month, though sometimes he refused to see her. But she got to know the chaplain, and from his last few notes, she gathered that Monty was a subdued but much-changed man. Maybe these years of praying for him were finally answered.
At first, she had to do a double-take since she wasn’t sure it was him. Monty used to have smooth brown hair; this man’s was almost all gray. And the gait was different, grave, like his demeanor. Yet, he was still the tall, masculine man she’d fallen in love with. Her eyes filled. A sudden rush of tenderness bubbled in her heart. He looked so broken, so ashamed to face the world, especially to face her. She would prove her love by actions if not by words.
Slipping out of the car and forgetting her umbrella, she hastened through the wet mist. “Monty? Monty!” she called.
His head jerked up, and he caught sight of her. “Kay?”
A sweet smile beautified her mouth. Then she darted to him and, in a second, had thrown her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. Hesitantly, he put his arms around her.
“Darling, I’m so glad to see you,” she said earnestly, looking him full in the eye.
“You’re still a beautiful woman, Kay,” he observed.
From his tone, she gathered that he was wondering why she’d stuck with him. So she smiled again. “Thank you. I only ever want to hear those words from you. No one else.”
“Why’d you…” he began. “Why’d you keep coming to see me all these months? Even when I said it was better you stay away?”
With all her heart, Kay longed to make it plain for him. She took his arm and gently led him to the car. “I’m your wife, and I love you. No matter what happens or what you’ve done, you are the man I vowed my love and faithfulness to before God, and I’m going to keep that vow.”
Monty’s tired eyes rested on her face. The firmness in her voice seemed to convince him, at least partway. She went on.
“I was alone and angry when this all happened, but Monty, I’ve got to tell you something wonderful. Jesus became a real person to me; He was there when I felt so horrible. I learned that He’s forgiven me for my sins if I will just go to Him in repentance. Then He taught me to forgive you. And when I did that, I loved you even more.”
Monty swallowed. “Chaplain Gordon’s been getting me to read the Bible. Maybe… maybe there’s something to it. About God and salvation and all that. I mean, if it’s made you feel this way about me…” and he broke off and looked away.
Kay caught the unsteadiness of his chin and gently reached up to turn his face back to her. “There is something to it. Now come on. Let’s go home.”
They got in the car, Kay in the driver’s seat. She kept throwing glances at Monty, lovingly studying his features. In ways, he was a new man. She liked the quietness, the deep contemplation, so different from the swaggering confidence of other years. A corner of her heart ached for him as she noticed again the silvering hair and the many creases around his eyes. But for the most part, she was rejoicing. These difficult years of incarceration had turned him onto a better path, and it was pretty certain that he would soon travel to the feet of Christ.
Monty, meantime, sat silently and tried to grasp the sensation of being out in the world again, as well as in the car with his wife. He hadn’t expected her to be waiting for him. He didn’t know that Chaplain Gordon wired her with the date of his release. Undeserving though he was, his spirit was comforted in the knowledge that Kay still loved him. Over the years, he’d given himself up as a lost cause, no good as a husband and not worth waiting for. It was more that feeling than anger or jealousy or bitterness that had made him put distance between himself and his wife. But as he saw this strange new love playing out, he wondered if maybe there was hope for him.
Of course, a very human aspect of his situation crossed his mind, too: he was going back home to be with his wife. Five years of no sex was rough on a married man. He swallowed again, wondering if Kay had thought about this. Did her love extend that far? Could she forget that he’d messed up both their lives and sunk to the status of convict? A woman might not want to make love with a man who’d hurt her so much. He knew, from the few times he had looked into her sad eyes from his cell, that she cried a lot and struggled with the shame and loneliness.
Uncertain, he dared to peek at her. Such a kind face she had, beautiful in its simplicity and openness, and made more tender with long-lashed eyes of the brightest blue. There was no pain written there anymore. In fact, she was wearing a look of deep peace and contentment.
His eyes strayed down her body. Though she was in a puffy trench coat, he could make out the angle of her shoulders. Her arms were long and slender, and the hands on the steering wheel were strong and full of soft grace. The coat hid the shape of her breasts and everything lower. Despite dreaming about her all these years, Monty realized he’d forgotten what she really looked like. A sudden urge to see it all again burned inside him. Just how to broach the topic was beyond him at the moment.
With a woman’s intuition, Kay felt his gaze on her and longed to smile outwardly. The things she had planned for him once they were in the cozy privacy of their little home were things which would, she hoped, assure him of her eternal love and forgiveness.
“How does a bowl of hot stew with homemade rolls sound?” she asked.
He quickly rerouted his focus off his thoughts to her question. “Well… it’d be… really nice,” was his sincere reply.
“That was always your favorite supper,” she mused. “And it’s perfect for a chilly autumn evening.”
Monty didn’t feel the need to answer, just looked over at her again. She glanced at him at the same time, and their eyes met. Her gaze was clear and sure, greatly easing the turbulence in his spirit.
They pulled into the driveway of their quiet neighborhood house. Kay was so glad she’d been able to keep up on rent; this little cottage was very dear. As Monty climbed out of the car, he glanced over the façade. It was neat and well-kept, a testament to his wife’s care and thrift. He felt hesitant coming back to this house. Really, he had no business being here. He wouldn’t have blamed Kay if she divorced him for another man, someone who could be a decent husband and give her a good home that she didn’t have to work for.
But as they gained the porch, her eyes met his again, speaking all her inner love through their light. An almost-forgotten rush of heat raced through Monty’s body. He wanted to grab Kay in his arms and crush her lips with his, taste her jawline and neck, caress her skin, and breathe in that womanly scent that was so vague in his memory. Most of all, he wanted to tell her how undeserving he was of her love and faithfulness. The willpower it took to hold back was commendable.
He followed her into the house, observing the tidy atmosphere of the front hall and sitting room. She’d learned how to make it welcoming, even with few decorations. The sofa was facing the fire, which was a change from how he’d last seen it; the blinds were mostly closed, and soft white valances hung above them. Once Kay switched on the lamps, the place was aglow with that perfect tint of warm light.
After hanging her coat and his, Kay took Monty’s hand and told him to go wash up and get comfortable while she finished the dinner preparations. Of course, he knew the way to their bedroom. It was cozy, too, though the sight of the big bed with Kay’s favorite blue pillow on her side sent a pang through Monty’s heart. She’d kept on sleeping here—without him. How lonely it must have been!
He put his one bag on the dresser and went into the bathroom to wash his hands and face and brush his damp hair. Only as he finished did he dare look at his reflection in the mirror. Pain had certainly chiseled its marks on his face, making him older and wearier. What Kay still saw in him, he didn’t know, especially when he thought of her quiet beauty. She wasn’t gorgeous—in fact, her nose was too big by most standards and her smile curiously uneven—yet her very womanliness would draw any man.
When Monty entered the kitchen, he paused at the scene of his wife laying things out on the little round table. Without her coat, her figure was more definable in its slender skirt and soft blouse. Her legs were the perfect shape and accentuated even better by her high heels. All that, combined with her graceful movements around the kitchen, increased Monty’s desire.
Kay turned and found him. “Oh, you look so much better!” she noted brightly. “Well, you’d better come taste the dinner and see if I’ve gotten any better as a cook.” She smiled as she motioned to his chair.
He came over, drew her chair out first, then sat down. Kay reached across and touched his hand. “Monty, do you mind if I thank God for… well, the supper?” she asked.
“No, it’s fine,” he said. He closed his eyes, as did Kay. Her prayer was simple.
“Father in heaven, thank you for providing us this food. And thank you for bringing Monty home to me. Help him see how much I love him and how much you love him. In the name of Christ, amen.”
When she finished, she lifted her eyes to his and was moved to see wetness shining there. But he said nothing; his thoughts were too conflicted.
The meal was quiet. Little conversation passed between them. Still, Kay enjoyed the look of satisfaction on Monty’s face as he ate; he liked the stew.
They finished, and Kay took the bowls to the sink. As she turned on the water, she heard Monty push his chair back and get up.
“How about I dry?” he asked quietly.
She smiled at him. “I’d love it.”
So she washed the dishes, and he dried them and put them away. It was sweet, working together at something so commonplace. Kay almost didn’t want the task to end. Yet there was so much more to come, to say, to do. And in her God-given courage, she was ready to do her part.
Once the stew had been put away and Monty got busy making some coffee, she wandered into the sitting room. A few lights could be turned off, she reasoned. The firelight was so inviting. She sank onto the sofa, gazing into the flames. Her ears listened to the brief sounds coming from the kitchen and realized her heart was singing. It was so wonderful having her man back home, making coffee in the kitchen after supper.
Monty didn’t want to be away from her if he could help it and hurried to get the coffee going. He stepped into the sitting room, a little surprised at the dim lighting. Then he caught sight of Kay, half-reclining on the couch, one arm lazily stretched over the back. The curve of her neck and the careless fall of her hair on her shoulders stirred a flame deep in his body. He wondered how many hundreds of nights she’d sat there with nothing but the snap of the fire for company, and the thought propelled his legs her way. She gladly welcomed him, and he sat down beside her, though not very close.
For a minute, neither spoke. Monty studied the fire, trying to think of what he ought to say, while Kay prayed silently and then looked over discreetly at her husband. She prepared to say something when he made the first move.
“Kay… I’m sorry.” The words came out unsteadily, followed by a flexing of his neck muscles.
It was all Kay needed. In a second, she was close by his side, her hands twining around his arm. “Monty, Monty, I forgive you. I forgave you a long time back,” she declared in almost a whisper.
He gripped his hands together and absently gnawed his knuckles with his teeth. “For years, I believed I was done for, figured you’d find someone better, and I wouldn’t think the worse of you.” Monty turned to look into her face. “But then you take me back like some sort of angel… how can you still love me?”
His voice broke her heart and filled it with joy at the same time. “I already told you. Jesus loves me; in His eyes, I’m the same as you. But He died for both of us. Can you take Him at His word? Oh, and if you only knew how much I want you to take me at mine!” she breathed.
Another tautening of his neck, then he very hesitantly reached out and touched the side of her face, along her jawline. The warm smoothness of her skin thrilled his fingertips; he wanted to go further but felt he shouldn’t. Kay could easily read his insecurity and decided to erase it then and there. She started forward and pressed her lips to his.
The move seemed to startle him, yet a few seconds of feeling her lips on his again quickly replaced his uncertainty with desire. He couldn’t believe this feeling. It had been so long since he kissed her that he figured he might get wild. The heat of her mouth searching out the recesses of his aroused him as nothing had for five years.
At length, he backed away to look into her eyes. “God helping me, I will love you and be everything He wants me to be until I die,” he averred.
The most glorious of smiles bathed her face in tender light, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, I thank the Lord! He is answering my prayers!” she cried. How glad her heart was! The two greatest gifts of human existence were being handed to her tonight: God’s grace and a man’s love. The way his hands were wandering down her shoulders and arms and then her back telegraphed a jolting premonition of beautiful things to follow. She raised her head, held his gaze in the flickering shadows for a moment, and offered her partly-open lips to him again.
He took them, caressing them with his own. He was happy to go slow and take his time. Kissing had to be learned all over again, he realized, as new shocks of pleasure struck him when his mouth connected with hers in hitherto untried angles. Her hands stroked the back of his neck over his collar, then wandered into his hair, making him sigh into her mouth.
With her lips covered by his, she had some difficulty smiling, but she finally pulled away with a soft twinkle in her eye. “You’re as wonderful at kissing as you ever were,” she whispered.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he declared, his hungry eyes fixed on her face.
“Haven’t you been waiting long enough?” she asked archly, but with her eyes drawn back seductively to his mouth. Just the wandering of her gaze ignited his attraction, and he pulled her to him, their lips meeting a third time.
The fire began to roar in their veins. First tender, the kisses and touching became passionate. To Monty, the sensation of holding his wife’s slender body in his arms and taking her lips and touching anywhere he pleased nearly sent him into a delicious blackout. On her part, Kay moaned in delight, overtaken with cravings to press her mouth to his mouth, his forehead, his eyes, his neck…
As her lips roved over his face, Monty sensed that his shaft was burning and becoming stiff. That, too, was a novelty after all this time. Kay’s fingers strayed over his back and then around and up his chest. While kissing him, she began unbuttoning his shirt so she could touch his bare chest.
Her warm hands on his body made him start. The whole thing was so strange, so forgotten. He hadn’t been touched like this for five years. He also realized she hadn’t been either, and the thought filled him with lust for her. If she had been loyal enough to wait for him to satisfy her, then he would do it. Consequently, his fingers suddenly dove down to her skirt hem and skimmed along her thigh, traveling like lightning to her vulva.
The abrupt invasion of her most secret place made her jerk. For a second, she was startled. But then those blissful hours of lovemaking years ago came flooding back and drove her to grind against his hand. His kissing had strayed to her neck, and with his free hand, he pulled on the neckline of her blouse, revealing her shoulder and the top half of one breast. For a second, he just gazed at the view, then attacked it with his mouth. Kay just about fainted. The moist fire of his lips on her skin, added to his probing fingers around her labia, was too pleasurable to endure.
Then Monty whispered in her ear, a bit hoarsely, “Let me make love to you, Kay. I want you. I need you!” In his tone was a note of fear that she might reject him.
But he knew in a flash he was wrong. She gripped his shoulders under the fabric of his shirt and kissed his ears and jaw. “Yes, yes! Oh, Monty, I’ve wanted you all this time! Take me to bed! Take me!”
A bit unsteadily, he got up with her in his arms, reveling in her half-revealed breasts and mussed hair. She held on to him, excited to be with him again. They were in the bedroom within ten seconds.
One low lamp gave the room a sensual aura while rain pattered against the windows. Monty lightly kicked the door shut behind him and set Kay on the bed. He gazed at her as he fumbled with his belt and trouser button. His body craved her. He still felt unworthy, especially when she drew her blouse over her head and unhooked her bra, exposing her full breasts to him. Yet her eyes beckoned him, and he realized he must put the guilt behind him if he was going to answer her.
Free of his pants and now only in his shorts, he gently laid her back and climbed over her. He kissed her lips again and again before working his way down her neck to those enticing globes of warm flesh. Squeezing and nuzzling them, he aroused her nipples to erect hardness, which only stoked the fire in his shaft the more.
“Yes, Monty, yes!” she moaned, her fingers combing through his hair.
His lips traveled down her flat warm torso to the waist of her skirt and panties, which he gripped with both hands and pulled downward. With some help from her, he unshackled her legs of the clothes and tossed them aside. For a second, he paused, looking down at her, so sweet and feminine and bare before him. Meeting her eyes again, he read the hunger, and most importantly, the love. His heart felt close to bursting a valve. The blend of passion and deep, grateful love for her overwhelmed him. A quick jerk and his shorts were thrown off, his shaft firm and thick and placed at the entrance of his final destination.
“I don’t deserve to even be with you,” he began brokenly.
Her eyes, still fiery, softened a little with wifely affection. “Stop saying that. I want you. The past is in the past, all right? Please, Monty, make love to me. It’s been way too long for both of us.”
The muscles in his neck went taut as he swallowed, and he fell and kissed her with all the madness he could humanly manage. At the same time, he angled himself and drove his manhood into her love hole.
A gasp, almost a cry of pain and exhilaration, broke from her lips while he groaned and clenched her shoulders. The feeling of togetherness washed over them like a delicious boiling fountain. For a second, neither moved; they were in fresh awe at this sensation, this stark intimacy that filled and enveloped both. Kay could feel her husband inside of her, so hard and thick and just what she needed. She rubbed her hands over his back in her bliss.
For Monty, it was almost like being drunk and yet sober, drowning in the glory of his wife’s body and her love while remaining fully conscious and appreciative of it all. It was something no human could explain. Maybe there was something in the forgiveness and the love that God had planted in Kay’s heart for him. As Monty began slowly to gyrate his hips and crush his loins against hers, he decided he would accept this heavenly love for his own.
“Kay… I… love you!” he gasped.
“I know you do!” she returned in the same breathlessness.
“I already have.”
“Darling… you’re so… good!”
Similar spurts of conversation passed between them as they varied their positions and tried everything they could think of to become one with each other.
“I’ve been a damn fool,” he murmured.
“Monty, you are not damned, thanks to God’s grace,” she whispered back.
“I see it. You make it… so real.”
“He loves you even more than I do, and that’s a heck of a lot,” she declared, running her fingers through his hair.
“Oh, baby…” and he plunged deeper, harder, hungry to melt into her.
They moved from the bed to the floor, to the chair, then out into the hall, and finally, to the couch in the sitting room. Kay was so wet that she left puddles wherever they went, a sign of their consummation. The furniture meant nothing; neither did the carpet. Only their bond of body and soul mattered. Kay cried tears of pleasure and joy as she saw her husband’s secret heart laid bare, and he came to faith in Christ during their lovemaking.
When he began to grunt and thrust in the throes of final ecstasy, Kay moved with him more fiercely. Their loins connected and broke at a mad pace. She wanted him to go over, to fall into the torrent of greatest human bliss, whether she did or not. Still, the tingling of her love bud omened a deep orgasm for her too.
“Baby, baby, deeper! Please! Harder!” she cried, her hands knotted behind his neck as he held her hips and slammed her against his pelvis.
“Oh God… dear God… it’s coming… I feel it… oh, baby, you’re so hot, so wet!” he growled.
The liquids of sex soaked them both, running from within Kay’s core down her thighs and onto Monty’s cock. Such intensity, such raw desire, had never driven them like this before. Kay couldn’t control her yelps as her husband buried himself in her over and over, squelching when he entered and withdrew. She could see his neck muscles flexing, the veins in his forehead about to burst, and his skin burning red. She loved it all and dragged her lips all over his face.
Then the wave broke over him, drawing such yells as she had never heard from a man’s lips. She thought he might cleave her body with his herculean thrusts. As he shook and gasped and his hardness throbbed inside her, she felt her own arousal overtake her. Her fingers darted to stroke her clitoris, and while watching him climax, she rubbed herself to blind and deaf and convulsing paradise.
That little house, which for five years had been so quiet, inhabited by a convict’s lonely wife, observed the most impassioned release ever known to reunited husband and wife.
Then the wave ebbed back out to sea, leaving them both drained and deeply satisfied. Monty fell to the sofa with Kay still perched on his rod. She moved off and stretched herself alongside him.
“Monty, it’s so good to have you home,” Kay said softly. She was absently caressing his chest and twining her fingers through his chest hair.
He smiled a grave smile that spoke so much. “You are doing a wonderful job erasing the prison years.”
“They’re behind us, darling,” she whispered.
“I think I get now what the chaplain was driving at all those months. Love. Real love. I see God Almighty like I never did. If He could give you such a love for me, then I think I better start loving Him.”
Kay sat up to look with gladness into his eyes. “Then I thank Him for the prison years.”
“So do I,” and Monty pulled her down and kissed her.
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